A tale of two bro's
by fireprooflawyer
Summary: Two friends Aran and Malcolm stumble their way drunkenly through their lives in skyrim, leaving chaos and confusion in their wake. And you thought Alduin was bad...
1. Chapter 1

A tale of two bro's

**Authors note: Hello, I'm back**

**I know I've been gone for a while, and I am sorry, but here I am once again, for your reading pleasure (I hope).**

**Basically, I stopped because writing Fanfiction became too much like home work, and it shouldn't be like that, it should be something I enjoy doing.**

**So I took a break, went off the grid for a while, but now my breaks over and I'm back to writing Fanfiction.**

**So here's a little something as a sort apology for being gone for so long, I present to you A tale of two bro's, a story that follows the ridiculous antics of two best friends, Malcolm the Redguard: Warrior and gentleman, and Aran the Dark elf; Drunk and lunatic.**

**Enjoy….**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, (that belongs to Bethesda), only the characters I make up.**

Chapter one: An unusual friendship

Night had fallen over Skyrim.

The streets of Whiterun were unusually quiet, normally during the late hours the sounds of Nords singing drunken songs, and orcs butting heads could be heard though out the city. Strangely, the only sounds that could be heard were the slight rustling of pieces of fabric, being buffered in the wind.

The Bannered Mare was the place where most of these sounds came from, a tavern filled with various types of alcohol.

A drunken Nord is a dangerous Nord.

The tavern was filled with a large number of these drunken Nords, all of them completely silent for the first time since an angry mage had silenced them all with a single spell,(That hadn't gone down well with the mages popularity, they're still searching for his body).

All of their attention was focused on the only two patrons that weren't Nords, a Redguard and a dark elf.

The Elf was dressed in scruffy clothes, and had a shock of crazy blue hair, he had been drunk when he'd made the decision to dye it, and he was drunk when he made most of his decisions.

Like for instance, he had decided, pissed out of his mind as he was, to announce very loudly what he thought of Nord's hair styles in general.

"They're too long." He said, his voice slurred "They act all manly and tough, but how can we be expected to take them seriously when they have such ridiculous hair."

His companion was a Redguard, dressed in respectable clothes; dark skinned, and had short curly black hair. He too was drunk, not as drunk as the elf, but drunk all the same.

"Aran, how can you make fun of other people's hair styles when your head looks like a frost trolls armpit hair?"

Aran glared at his friend, or tried to, but his eyes were having trouble focusing and he ended and glaring daggers at a flagon of ale.

"Screw you Malcolm, my hair is…." He paused and tried to think of a word to describe his hair.

"Ridiculous" suggested Malcolm.

"No, it's awesome, that's what it is."

The pair had, up until that moment, failed to notice the crowd of angry Nords that were surrounding them. They did manage to notice however, when a large burly Nord with a wave of long blond hair, attempted to smash a bottle of whisky over Aran's head.

Aran's arm blurred, and suddenly he had the man's wrist in an iron grip, the bottle stopped inches from his skull.

He looked drowsily up at the Nord, then at the bottle, then back at the Nord.

"Watch where you're swinging that thing, you could hurt someone, bottles are dangerous, aren't they Malcolm?" said Aran, the wink he sent Malcolm's way all too obvious.

The Redguard nodded, grabbed a bottle of honey mead, and smashed it over the Nords head.

The Nord slumped to the floor out cold, and Aran released the man's wrist.

"See," Said Aran, flapping his hand in the man's general direction "He's hurt himself."

Some might question the wisdom of insulting a Nords haircut, and then hitting one over the head with a bottle when all of his friends are in the same room, but they were drunk, so reason had done a runner along with their hand eye coordination.

A wall of muscle in the form of a man with brown plaited hair and a stubbly beard launched himself at Aran. Malcolm stuck his leg out as he passed him and the man was sent sprawling, right into Aran's fist.

Another Nord tried to Grab Malcolm from behind, but he twisted his hip into him, knocking him down and finishing him off with a savage kick to the man's crotch. The man curled up into a ball and started to cry.

Two Nords went at Aran at the same time, barrelling towards him side by side. Aran leaped up with inhuman grace, tried to grab a wooden beam and missed, he fell down onto the heads of his two opponents, and he twisted in mid-air and grabbed their heads, slamming them together.

The pair fell to the floor groaning and clutching their heads. Aran landed in-between them, he stumbled and fell flat on his face.

Malcolm rolled his eyes, and then stepped (fell) to the left as another Nord came up behind him, he grabbed a bar stool and smashed it into Nords side, breaking both the stool and the man's ribs.

The owner of the tavern continued to wipe a flagon with a cloth (if they're not serving drinks, they're wiping glasses) completely ignoring the fact that his tavern was being trashed, it happened a lot and he had long since learned to just let it happen, and wait till the guards showed up.

The possibility of the guards showing up were pretty small, considering the fact that the guards on the night shift were currently passed out in the corner of the tavern, snoring and covered in their own vomit.

With six of their friends out for the count, the last of the Nords began to retreat, edging their way towards the exit.

And then of course they remembered how drunk they were, and charged Malcolm and Aran once more, because alcohol made you do stupid things (in case you hadn't noticed).

It only took the pair about ten minutes to knock out the rest of the bars patrons, as the last drunken foe was beaten, the Elf and the Redguard went back to their stools at the bar, and continued their drinking.

The night was noticeably quieter from then on, and maybe the city guard might have appreciated it a little more if their favourite place to drink hadn't been smashed up, forcing the tavern to close for several weeks.

As it were, Aran and Malcolm were arrested and thrown into the city prison the next day, and they immediately threw up all over their beds, because they were unsurprisingly, very hung over.

The two of them made an unusual pair, Aran, short, strong and rude. He often dressed in scruffy clothes, and never really gave a damn about his appearance. He also had a habit of offending large groups of people, often causing fights and several trips to the infirmary.

And then there was Malcolm, he was smartly dressed, well mannered, an overall gentleman. He was tall, slim, not as physically strong as Aran, but smarter, more careful about what he said around others.

Of course, Aran was in no way stupid, he just wasn't very good and keeping his thoughts to himself, and he was normally drunk. But he was cunning and quite clever when he paid attention.

They were complete opposites, united only by their friendship, and their knack of getting into serious trouble while doing even the simplest of tasks.

They were an excellent team when it came to fighting, but not so much when it came to anything productive, and subtlety never really worked out for them.

To put it simply: they were two bro's, enjoying life, and making it hell for others.

Divines help those who tried to stop them…..

**Author's note:**

**And that was chapter one, hope you liked it.**

**I think Aran and Malcolm are my favourite characters that I've done so far, I wonder what would happen if they met the characters from my other Fanfiction…..**

**As always review and tell me what you think**

**Catch ya later 8)**


	2. Chapter 2

A tale of two bro's

**Author's note: I'm back with chapter two.**

**Ya know, because I'm awesome.**

**Enjoy…..**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim, Bethesda does, because they're awesome.**

Chapter 2: Doing time (travel)

Time.

It happened, it flowed, it passed.

It was never ending, ancient and old at the same time.

And it did not appreciate disturbances.

Sometimes the Whiterun jail had the pleasure of playing host to a particularly difficult individual. In these cases, a special kind of cell was in order: Reinforced bars, solid rock under the floor all the way down, and several runes that bound ones magicka.

No one got in or out without the key, which was kept on the guard captains person at all times.

One of these special cells had two new inhabitants.

Two very hung over inhabitants.

Malcolm groaned and tried to raise his head, but quickly abandoned his attempts as soon as his head practically split open; it was one of those headaches that feel like someone had repeatedly bashed you over the head with a rolling pin.

He half opened one eye and took in his surroundings: Drab grey walls, one of them made up of the vertical steel bars found in most prisons, two simple beds covered in vomit, and a basin. He fully opened his eyes and winced at the glare coming from a candle somewhere outside his cell.

He looked to his left, and saw Aran passed out on the floor by the basin.

He struggled to his feet and swayed slightly as he stumbled over to the sleeping Elf.

Malcolm nudged him with his foot and croaked "Hey douchebag, wake up."

Aran continued snoring, oblivious to his friend's actions.

Malcolm growled, and planted a kick in Aran's ribs.

Aran's eyes shot open and he launched himself to his feet, eyes wide and fists raised for a fight.

"Calm down, we're in prison." Said Malcolm, completely missing the irony of what he'd just said.

Aran glared at him "Why the hell did you kick me?"

"You wouldn't wake up."

"I hate you."

"Ditto."

Aran glanced around at their cell, shuddering when he saw the vomit covering their beds.

"What the hell happened last night?" he asked.

Malcolm sighed, "We were drunk, you insulted the hair cut of all Nords in a room full of them. One of them tried hit you, and we got into a fight with everyone else in the tavern. We won, went back to our drinking, and we were arrested when the guards turned up."

"So the usual then."

"Unfortunately, yes."

Aran tried to lean against the wall, but just ended up sliding down to the floor.

"Holy Azura my head is killing me, how much did I drink last night," groaned Aran as he held his head in his hands.

Malcolm walked over and sat down next to him, rolling his eyes.

"Enough to kill of a large amount of brain cells, that's for sure; I'd be surprised if you had any left."

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Throw up on me, and I will end you."

Being their usual observant selves, they failed to notice a floating pinprick of light appear in the middle of their cell, it began to steadily expand until it was about the size and shape of a small fridge.

Aran raised his head, and his eyes went wide when he saw it.

"What in the name of Dagon's nipples is that?"

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at it, his brain still very much hung over.

"Not sure, looks like a portal of some kind."

"Well what's it doing here?"

"How am I supposed to know, why don't you ask it."

"Doesn't look like it has a mouth, how could it talk."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows at the dark elf.

"I was being sarcastic."

"Well really, I didn't notice, congratulations you've fooled me again…. That was sarcasm by the way."

"I know, I can tell when someone's being sarcastic because I actually listen."

"Sorry what was that?"

"I hate you."

A voice echoed across the room, making them jump.

"Sorry to interrupt gentleman, but I need to speak with you about something quite urgent."

Aran glanced warily around the room.

"Where's that voice coming from?"

Malcolm groaned, face palming.

"Maybe the glowing portal thingy, you utter moron."

"Will you stop insulting me; I'm not in the mood."

"Will you two stop bickering and listen to me, it's vital that I talk with both of you." Came the voice again, with a hint of impatience.

Aran got to his feet and glared at the portal.

"Shut up, who the hell do you think you are, bossing me around?"

The portal shifted and warped, and a figure appeared within the light. Time seem to literally slow down around them. The figure was a man wearing some kind of robe, he looked to be in his mid-twenties, and he was completely bald. He didn't look like he was physically there; he form was blue and flickering.

"I am Oswald; I am a Psijic Monk, an ancient order of mages who are tasked with keeping reality stable. I have been sent here to give you a warning, and getting he wasn't easy, I was in the seventh era when Celarus contacted me, he told me to come back to our orders base of operations. He had a task for me that only I could complete, obviously my talents have become noticed, which is more than I can say for that stuck up cretin Tandil. He thinks he's so much better than me, but Celarus chose me for this mission, not him. It won't be long before I'm the Lord Master myself."

Malcolm wore a look of complete and utter confusion, while Aran just looked slightly constipated.

"You sure do talk a lot." Said Malcolm "What was this mission you were given.

"I was just getting to that part; he wanted me to give both of you a warning, he said it was extremely important that I found you, and he told me not to run my mouth, which is ridiculous, I don't talk too much, I just have a lot to say that's all."

"And what is this warning?" asked Aran.

The Monk began searching through his robes, his body rippling as he moved.

"Hold on, I wrote it down some where… ah, here we go." He pulled out a large role of parchment; the paper was old and tattered.

"How long have you had that thing, it's falling to pieces."

The Monk unrolled the parchment and peered at it.

"Well technically a couple thousand years, time is a bit messed up in the vortex, physical objects age quicker than people; then again we monks aren't really peopled as such."

"So what's it say?

Oswald cleared his throat, and began to read.

"Two drunken heroes beware, the man who controls mammals is an opponent you cannot best, and the dark one's shall hunt you."

"Sounds lovely."

Malcolm elbowed Aran, who glared at him.

"Shut up and let him finish, you blue haired twit."

Aran growled at him, but stayed silent, and Oswald continued reading.

"Only together can you stand against the coming darkness, of which there is much to come.

Finally, do not be tempted by the destroyer's promise of power, for he only wishes for chaos.

That is all it says."

"What the hell is all that supposed to mean, if it's so important that we get this message, why be so cryptic."

Oswald rolled up the parchment and offered it to Malcolm.

"Here, take it in case you forget what it says."

Malcolm took it and slipped it into the pocket of his trousers.

"Thanks, but Aran's right, if the warning was so important why was it so vague?"

Oswald shrugged.

"I dunno; guess you'll just have to work it out your selves."

Aran yawned and stretched his arms.

"Well, not much we can do about it from inside this cell, is there?"

Oswald grinned slyly.

"There may be something I can do about that." He said, he closed his eyes and raised his hands, fingers splayed. Twin balls of flickering blue light appeared, one from each hand. One flew off to the wall and hovered there for a few seconds, before expanding and becoming a portal not to different to the one Oswald had stepped through. The other flew out of their cell and stopped in the middle of the room visible beyond the bars, it too expanded into a portal.

Oswald pointed to the portal in their cell.

"Step through there, and you'll be free." He said, still grinning.

"What about the guards?" asked Malcolm.

"They are frozen in time, and will remain so until you leave this building."

Malcolm and Aran looked around, and noticed for the first time that everything, including the flame from the candle, was completely still, everything had a bluish tint to it."

"Well that would explain why the guards haven't shown up yet, anyway, if that's everything then we'll be off. We've got things to do: guards to avoid, alcohol to drink." Said Aran, turning to walk toward the portal.

"One more thing," said Oswald, he closed his eyes for about a minute, and then opened them again "Your hangovers should be gone."

Aran grinned, "Cool, neat trick."

Malcolm reached out and shook Oswald's hand.

"Thanks," he said "And say hi to your boss for us.

Oswald nodded, gave a little bow, and then stepped into his own portal. It crackled and shifted, and then shrunk until it was just a tiny speck of light, and then finally winked out of existence.

"Well come on then me old chum," said Aran "Lets bounce."

Malcolm rolled his eyes and joined him in front of the portal. He gestured for Aran to go first.

"Go ahead."

"See you on the other side."

Aran hesitated for a moment, and stepped into the portal. He disappeared the moment he touched it, reappearing a second later next to the other portal.

"Wasn't too bad, come on through."

A few moments later Malcolm had joined his friend, and they were walking out of the building, towards the exit.

"Now what?" asked Malcolm

Aran shrugged "Dunno, I'm kind of hungry, let's go get something to eat."

"Where, the Tavern's trashed, and the guards might recognise us?"

"We can sneak out of the city, and buy some food from that Khajiit camp just outside the gate."

Malcolm nodded, "sure".

They came to the exit and stepped through. As soon as they passed through the door, time began to flow again, guards continuing their rounds, citizens carrying on their conversations as if nothing had happened, and to them, nothing had.

A pair of guards rounded a corner, chatting to each other. As they passed the guard house, neither of them noticed a Dark elf and a Redguard disappear into the shadows, they did however, notice that their prisoners had escaped when they went to check up on them.

By then of course, it was too late.

**Authors note: And there you have it, chapter 2.**

**Hopefully that Khajiit food isn't laced with moon sugar…..**

**Also, thank you to Searece for following this story, and for adding me to their author alerts, it really does make my day.**

**As always review and tell me what you think**

**Catch ya later **

**8)**


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